The Path of Hope
by Cenire
Summary: My vision of Aragorn's quest to become a ranger and eventually win Arwen's hand. This could be a long, slow fic. It's PG-13 now, but the rating may increase as the story goes on.


"The years will bring what they will. We will speak no more of this until many have passed. The days darken, and much evil is to come," Elrond regarded Aragorn with a measure of finality.  
  
"You have been as a father to me, and your sons as brothers. It is beyond me in this matter to argue with you until those years have passed," Aragorn paused and lowered his gaze to the floor, struggling to control the storm of emotions that raged in his breast. "But perhaps it is for the better I do not spend those years here. Knowing that the Lady Arwen dwells here with me, I would spend every spare moment seeking her company. Perhaps tis better I leave Imladris to clear my head." And my heart, he amended silently.  
  
"You must do as you see fit, my son. You are a child no longer, and I cannot hold you here. Will you journey with Elladan and Elrohir when next they ride?" Elrond questioned gently.  
  
"Nay. I regard them as my brothers, but ever would they remind me of Arwen. I think perhaps I will ride to the West and seek the company of the Rangers of the Dúnedain."  
  
"Indeed?" Elrond arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure the blood of the Númenoreans will not remind you overmuch of … your people here?" Elrond did not need to speak Arwen's name to make it clear to who he was referring.  
  
"The blood of the Númenoreans, however noble, is of no comparison to that of the Eldar. I have thought long about taking this journey since I first discussed my feelings for Arwen with Gilraen. I believe that going to train among my own people is the best recourse I have against the feelings I now battle with," Aragorn's voice gradually grew quieter as he spoke until he finished in a whisper.  
  
"I suppose I need not remind you that were you willing to stay," Elrond paused to study Aragorn. "No, I suppose not. Your eyes speak your soul, Estel. Naught I say will convince you to stay. Perhaps it is just as well. Leave when you will, and go with my blessing. May the Valar watch over you where 'ere you go."  
  
Aragorn moved as though to bow, and then paused. After an instant, he instead crossed to where Elrond stood and embraced him. He could feel the elf-lord stiffen under his unexpected touch, unaccustomed to affection as he was. Aragorn, however, was not deterred by this. "You have been as a father to me, and I know not how to repay your kindness. It pains me to think how much strife my love for Arwen may cause you. But please understand that I never meant you ill." Aragorn paused in his embrace but a moment longer before stepping back, making a hasty bow and retreating from the room.  
  
Elrond stood motionless in shock as Estel left the room, and as the young man's footsteps faded down the corridor the elf lord lapsed into thought.  
  
*****  
  
Three sunrises came and went before Aragorn was seen again. Even then only those elves working in the stables and those about their business before dawn were aware that Estel was leaving – but for a select few this morning would stand forever etched in their minds.  
  
Elladan and Elrohir had laid their blessings on Aragorn, though both were anxious that he chose to travel alone. The brothers had but to look into the eyes of the one they had once called Estel to know that his mind was made up. Deep in their hearts, Elladan and Elrohir knew that this was one journey Estel had to make on his own, and secretly they were saddened.  
  
Saying goodbye to Gilraen had been nearly impossible for Aragorn, for he journeyed alone and did not know in his heart of hearts if he would ever return. Gilraen had taken the news of her only son's sudden departure quite well. She but smiled and embraced him, whispering at last, "I knew this day would come. Your father would be proud to know you are journeying to the west, to the land of your ancestors."  
  
"Would that he was here to see it," Aragorn said softly.  
  
"I believe he knows it. Perhaps it was he who guided you. Who can say? Go now, and do not think on it overmuch. Send no word my son, and neither give your true name. Even among the Dúnedain Sauron has eyes." She kissed him softly on the forehead (though he stood a good head and a half taller than she) and said no more.  
  
Aragorn had been unsure about speaking to Arwen of his departure. Part of him feared she would not care at all. The other part feared she would care too much. Yet despite his doubts he awaited her the night before his departure in one of Rivendell's secluded gardens.  
  
The birch trees seemed to glow unearthly white in the moonlight while a small stream sang merrily over the rocks. Was his heart not so heavy, Aragorn could have reveled in the beauty of the garden all night. As it was, the waiting seemed to stretch forever before him. Each heartbeat seemed an eternity; every breath drawn reached the span of a lifetime. At last, when he was sure he could endure no more, a soft rustling alerted him that he was no longer alone.  
  
Arwen was radiant in the moonlight. He skin glowed as the bark of the birch trees, and her dark hair seemed as black as the sky in which a million stars were placed. Aragorn felt his heartbeat increase and his cheeks suffuse with warmth. At last, Arwen stood before him.  
  
"You wished to see me?" she asked with a voice that whispered as the wind in the trees.  
  
"I … I must leave," he found he could barely force the words out.  
  
"Indeed?" Arwen's timeless expression did not falter, and Aragorn dreaded that his worst fears would be realized.  
  
"I leave with the dawn to ride to the west and then I know not where. Surely your father would have told you in time, but I felt compelled to speak with you myself," and see you for perhaps the last time, he thought but did not speak so.  
  
Arwen's expression remained unchanged, but Aragorn detected a shimmer in her eyes, as though something unseen and unspoken lurked behind them.  
  
"I am saddened at your departure. I had hoped we might speak more before the time came for you to take your journey. But you must do as you will. My thoughts will go with you, Estel who is also Aragorn. May you return someday that I would speak with you at length."  
  
A long pause hung in the air, and neither elf nor man spoke, but simply regarded each other as with new eyes. Finally, deciding he could not or did not wish to say more, Aragorn bowed and took his leave. Yet it was with a heavy heart he retired to bed, and his sleep was troubled more than usual with visions of Arwen Undómiel.  
  
*****  
  
Aragorn woke before the sun rose and lit but one lamp. By its light and by the gray light of the early morning, he checked his saddle bags and his supplies one last time. Assured everything was as it should be, he gathered his supplies and headed to the stables. He did not speak to any of the elves he passed, and none inquired as to his business.  
  
He found his horse, Carnil, saddled and waiting for him. Elrond had gifted the young Estel with the animal when he first rode with Elladan and Elrohir on the long patrols that took him far from Rivendell in search of Orcs.  
  
He stroked the steed's forehead thoughtfully and spoke in a soft voice, "Today we ride far, my friend, perhaps never to return. Are you prepared for that? For I know not if I am. Yet we go, for to remain is folly." So saying, he secured his belongings and led Carnil from the stables.  
  
The guards gave him a passing glance, but it seemed Elrond had already informed them of Aragorn's intention to depart. As he mounted Carnil and began his journey west, neither did the forest patrols trouble him.  
  
Outside the Last Homely House, he drew up Carnil's reins and turned for one last look at Rivendell. He had neither the eyes nor ears of elves, but he could sense the sorrow of those whom he had told of his intent. In these dark days sorrow seemed to hang even heavier over the beauty of the buildings and gardens.  
  
With a heavy heart, Aragorn turned his back to the rising sun and rode west, not looking back again.  
  
*****  
  
Author's Notes  
  
Wow. Where to begin? I must thank Miss Cam for putting up with me whining about not being able to write this, as well as standing by with her Paddle of Canon Accuracy while she proofed it. Also, thanks to the wonderful Dwimordene for writing such amazing fic and inspiring me with her vivid characterizations.  
  
For references, please see:  
  
*Appendix A of ROTK, the section of the meeting and life of Aragorn and Arwen.  
  
*http://www.suite101.com/article.cfm/tolkien/64660 – Information and theories on the purpose and lineage of Rangers. This will be more important later.  
  
*Alon's piece, "The Professor Speaks," (Story ID 597790), which helped me avoid some common canonical mistakes.  
  
*The Encyclopedia Arda (http://www.glyphweb.com/arda/index.html), wherein I found a *lot* of helpful references.  
  
As always, I own absolutely none of these characters, however much I might wish I do. They belong to Tolkien and his estate. Though if anyone wants to send me a nice Aragorn or Legolas with a bow on, I won't object. ;) And of course, I'm making no money off of this whatsoever. I eat bagels for breakfast and ramen for dinner. If you want to deprive me of that, by all means, go ahead. You mean person, you. ;p  
  
Reviews and constructive criticism always welcome, of course. 


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